To Forget or Forgive
by The Malevolent Mountain Queen
Summary: "Maybe it's not always about trying to fix something broken. Maybe it's about starting over and creating something better." -Anonymous. / Version 1.0.


Bright. How bright. So incredibly bright. _Ow._

"Hey, buddy," a cheerful voice croaked weakly somewhere to the right of the teenager who had finally awoken.

Mal could only breathe as deeply as humanly possible, clenching his jaw and eyelids closed equally hard.

"You did it. It finally happened." The voice sounded so overjoyed, and yet, it was as exhausted as Mal felt. "I...I'm so proud of you, buddy. You really came through."

Mal tried to speak, but was overcome with the urge to cry out in pain, which riddled his body like a thunderstorm of nails. He then pondered the notion of such a strange occurrence, and wanted nothing more than to laugh. A chuckle or two escaped his lips, but the way everything ached suggested he ought to keep quiet.

"Heh...You're really out of it, huh?"

Mal suddenly realized how familiar the voice was. It sounded high-pitched, but unbelievably comforting. But it wasn't a woman.

What was a woman, anyway? What an odd word. "Woman." It sounded like a slang term for swimming or something, he decided. _Woomyn_ '. He laughed again. _Woooomyynnnn_.

What was swimming? Had he tried it before? Was it even a thing someone could do? What _was_ it? The fact that he didn't know frustrated him beyond comprehension, though he wasn't sure why, which only frustrated him more.

"Man...I'm not sure if it even matters anymore, but...I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Mal." The voice was now reduced to a whimper. "I didn't know you wouldn't be able to handle that. I guess I just assumed that since...never mind. It doesn't matter. You're okay now, alright? Everything's going to be A-okay. I promise. I just...I wish you would have let me be there for you, you know? Heh...I'll bet...you don't even know what I'm talking about..." A sniffle. Then, "It's like...you're like...my inner child. You're just...so helpless...probably in pain, and...I know that even if we become the best of friends, a part of you will always resent me. But that's okay. I understand. I'll always kind of hate you, too, I think. But I'm learning...to forgive. That's a little secret of mine. Because...when it all comes down to it...I hate the things you did. I hate how you endangered our lives and everyone around us. I hate that there was nothing I could do the whole time except bury you deeper when you resurfaced and hope that you wouldn't show up again. And I hate that I was always wrong."

Something blurry and dark took hold of Mal's hand and gently rubbed it, squeezing it a bit.

"But...I can't hold on to that anymore. And I think that I've really cared about you all these years, and yeah, I...wanted you dead for quite a while, but...I think, subconsciously, I just wanted to put you out of your misery. And...now you are. And I can finally let go and be free from it all, just as you are, now. You're free, Mal. You're safe from all that you were forced to deal with. And you know, even though we aren't in the same body anymore...I'll always consider you a brother of mine. Even if you hate me when you wake up and have no idea why. I'll be here. I'm always here." The voice cracked at "always," and somehow, Mal knew that was because he was close to tears.

He. It's a he.

 _Heeeee_.

Mal could feel his own chest vibrating with giggles this time. Words were so weird.

Even the word _word_. Word. Weeeerrrrd.

"Yeah..." This time, "he" chuckled a little himself. "Keep laughing, buddy. Smile. Don't forget to love yourself...You're worth it, okay? We were best friends once. I hope we can become that again. That would be nice. But if not, hey, at least we can...part ways, now."

Slowly, gently, the first long, dark thing and another like it closed in around Mal underneath his arms and brought him into a warm embrace. Too weak to fight back if he wanted to, the boy let it be, overjoyed that it was happening, but for no clear reason why. The hug went on for what felt like hours to Mal, though he wasn't complaining.

After an untold amount of time, the thing that Mal assumed to be the source of the voice reached to the top of Mal's head with both long dark things, picked through something soft covering it, and massaged his temples, then his shoulder blades, then his neck. The confused boy quietly accepted this with delight, that of which he somehow knew he hadn't experienced in such a long time. In fact, the pleasure was indescribably nice, like troughs of delicate, foamy water after a hurricane. Mal didn't know what a hurricane was, but acknowledged the random words that floated around in his mind like overlapping waves of seashells and crabs and a bunch of other cool, strange letters mixing together to form brand new words in a melting pot of serenity.

"You used to do this to yourself when you were in control sometimes, almost always because you were stressed. You remember that?" the voice asked.

That's when Mal realized that, for the first time since...ever, whenever or wherever or whatever that was, he truly, undeniably, and without a doubt, did not care. He didn't care about what was really happening. He didn't care who it was that was now holding him and making him feel what his brain could only describe as "awesome," and he most certainly didn't care about what was going to happen next. But there was a word for what he was feeling...He was sure of it.

Oh, that's what this was.

Happiness.

How he had missed it, though he wasn't sure in what context.

He was perfectly content with what was happening in the now. The now, whatever it may be, and whatever later it might be connected to, and the before it used to be, overpowered his will to think, and he eagerly relented. When the figure let go of him and stood to leave, the feeling almost faded away entirely, as if that hurricane had returned and sucked the beach dry.

"Wait!" Mal called out to the blur that was only just then coming into focus. The silhouette stopped, and Mal jumped at the sound of his own gravelly voice. It...scared him.

"Yes?" the voice inquired without turning around, his voice now monotone and so unemotional in contrast to how he spoke to Mal earlier.

Mal much prefered his words the first time.

It hurt so much to talk. The confused boy pressed onward. "P-please. Come back. Please give that back to me. Please...give it...I wa-I wanna feel it again…"

"Feel what?" The voice was now...agitated, something Mal failed to put his finger on, but recognized that it wasn't good.

The pain seeped deeper into the boy's skin, and he could barely make a peep all over again. How he wanted to say something, anything, to the voice in reply….

….But he left, followed by a soft, metallic _click_.

Mal looked at his hands...though he wondered for a good minute or two if they were really his. He could have sworn he saw the voice wearing the same ones. He considered the possibilities of people being able to change their hands and wear different styles. He couldn't help but snort at the thought and cackle some more. That wasn't quite right, but it amused him all the same. His own laugh frightened him, too, but it felt so...amazing.

He shrank back into the fluffy cloud under him and succumbed to sleep...except he couldn't. He was too…"curious."

What was that-"guy"-talking about? What did all that stuff mean? And why did some of the guy's words hurt him so much, while others built onto his foundation of joy? He had to find out more. But how? No way was he able to follow him. Not when his body stung like hundreds of bees.

"Bees" was a weird-sounding word, too. It's just the letter B with a plural S taped to it. Or was that "B.S."? Didn't that stand for something? Why was it so damn hot in here? Why couldn't he remember anything? Why-?

And that's when Mal stopped and thought about what was happening. The happiness was gone, now, replaced by something not very good at all. He had to get it back. But how?

He felt good when he didn't care about anything. Perhaps he could try that?

It worked. Soon enough, he felt okay again. Better than okay. Much better.

Though he couldn't help but wonder...How long would he be here until that guy returned? Would Mal just be alone forever? Was that the only other person in the entire…"world"?

No. That could not be. There had to be someone else.

Another _click_ , and repetitive, sharp "ticking" grew closer and louder as it rapped on the-"tile"?-floor. Was it another? Was it the guy-voice? "Hello…?" Mal prompted, feeling like it was the right thing to say.

"Hello," a different voice agreed. This one _was_ from a _woomyn_. "It's your nurse. It is time to remove the bandages." Not too happy...not too neutral...just…"her".

Bandages? Weren't those things that covered someone's face if they were…"deformed"? He couldn't actually ask, to his dismay.

As "she" approached Mal, he could feel the body heat radiating from her, and he imagined her "hugging" him, too. That was nice. He decided that he loved hugs. Needed them. "Craved" them.

She stuck something thin and cold underneath a layer of what he assumed to be the bandages, and a small _rrrrip_ accompanied it. She twirled the layer all the way around his head until the brightness almost seemed to burn him. "Stop," he cried out, panicked about what could happen if she took them all off. Would something happen to him? Would he disappear into the light?

"What's the problem?"

He swallowed hard. "The lights...they hurt…"

"Oh, of course. My mistake. Hold on just a second…"

She ticked away, and a little _flick_ noise came just before instant relief. The entire place felt cooler instantly, and it became all so... "dim."

She did away with the rest of the bandages, and Mal's life was now abundantly more clear.

Hospital. He was in a hospital.

But why?

"Umm..." He was unsure if it was okay to ask the nurse anything.

"Yes?" she replied.

"I don't mean to...erm…" Why did he feel…"nervous"? "Why am I here?"

"I am not permitted to disclose that, I'm afraid."

Somehow, he knew that meant, "I can't tell you." "Well...Do you know someone who can?"

"...That defeats the purpose of the entire operation, now doesn't it? Of course, I highly doubt you know what I mean."

"I don't...and...? Can I tell you something?"

"Yes…?"

"I'm scared. I don't know what's going on...or who I am...I know my name, but...that's it."

"Then the operation was completed successfully."

"So I'm...supposed to feel like this?"

"I believe so…"

"Is there...anything...beyond this? Or am I just going to be stuck in this bed forever?"

She let out a half-hearted laugh and shook her head. He was just now beginning to notice how…"pretty" she was. Something about her was so...good to him. Just by how she looked. Though he didn't care enough to try to understand. "No, hun. You're in the infirmary, not solitary confinement. You'll be out in a couple of days, give or take."

"But...I wanna know what's outside. And I wanna see the guy that came in earlier."

"Who-your visitor? Mike?"

The name struck a deep cord within the boy, and for a brief second, he could only stare straight ahead at the nurse. "Y...yeah…"

"Oh, well...I'm not quite sure when he'll be back. He didn't notify me of any future visits."

"Oh…"

The nurse frowned. "I know this...must be hard. This isn't any ordinary hospital, and neither was your operation. Ordinary, I mean." She wrote some things down on a large clipboard. "I can't tell you much, but...your case is quite the unique one."

 _Your "case_." Had he heard that before?

He could only look down at the floor, thoroughly puzzled, though he still pursued Nurse...whatever her name was. "Uhh...What should I...call you?"

"Oh, me?"

When she didn't continue, Mal nodded.

"I suppose you can refer to me as...Nurse Ellody."

For some reason, the woman introducing herself gave Mal a similar thrill to when the guy-voice-Mike-hugged him. He wanted to know her more. "I'm...I'm M-"

"Mal, yes, I'm well aware of that." She giggled. Mal thought it to be a rather lovely sound.

"I'm...bored. Is there anything else to do around here?"

"Hmm...Well...you could watch TV. That's always an option."

He cocked his head to the side and squinted a bit.

"What? Oh! Yes, right." She gently pushed her glasses back into place. "It's that black, reflective screen in the top-right-hand corner of this room."

He couldn't help but feel…"embarrassed" that he had next to no idea what she was talking about. All he could do was give a blank stare and avoid her…"gaze." There were just so many words, and not enough time. Was this how everything would be? For the rest of his life?

"Oh. Oh! My bad. It's-erm…" She cleared her throat. "It's that dark square...up there?" She pointed to his left, but there were so many things in this room...How was one to know which item it was? _Think, man. think!_ But he didn't like thinking. Too much thinking. Too little happiness.

His…"agitation" bubbled to the top. "What the _hell_ is a _square_?" he exclaimed desperately. "I should know this! I feel like I should! I can't-this isn't-Wh...Why can't I…?"

"Woah, there. Relax. It's okay. I'm not sure as to why I expected you to know in the first place." She sounded…"dismissive," like it was no big deal.

But of course it was! How would he…"communicate" with everyone else if this was how it was going to be? "I-I….I can't...'function' like this," he whispered, more to himself than Nurse Ellody.

Her face twisted into something that informed Mal that she felt bad for him. Pity! Pity was the word. He didn't like that...But why not? "Hey...It's okay…" She started to sound like Mike-voice-guy in a way that Mal didn't…"comprehend." "Honey, you're shaking like a leaf."

"D-do leaves shake? What _is_ a leaf? What's a shake? Isn't that something you drink? But...What's 'drink'? Isn't there more than one of those? How many do I need to know? How many are there? What even is 'many,' and-?"

"You seriously need to calm down."

"And _how am I...'supposed' to do that when I don't even know what_ that _IS_?" he shouted, which he somehow knew was…"impolite," but he felt it was quite…"necessary." He began to experience a sick, heated feeling sprouting inside his stomach, like an overfilled water balloon (whatever that was). All at once, he jerked his knees closer to his body and hugged them like they were his…"oxygen."

"Are you...crying?"

"I...I don't know…Vegetables shouldn't come out of your eyes...should they?"

"Uhh….What?"

"Leeks...So many leeks…"

"Listen, please, there are people who need to talk to you soon, Mal, but...you can't meet them yet if you're going to be this unstable. Please, just...relax-"

"How? How do I do that? Ow...Ouch…"

"Start by not giving yourself a migraine. And please don't have an anxiety attack. Look, I promise, this'll be...good for you. You'll see. What happened to you was for the greater good...and for science."

He bit his lip for reasons unknown and let the…"liquid" pour down his face. This was so wrong. He was unsure of how or anything much else at all, but this he knew. "What's wrong with me?" His voice sounded different again. Weaker. More "hoarse." Wasn't that an animal?

"We've all been attempting to answer that question for ourselves...I'm not helping, am I?"

He didn't reply. How could he?

 **Would he ever be able to?**


End file.
